


the cupcake king

by gyokus



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, i can't help it with these idiots, nico is a little shit, so this is just stupid fluffy cupcake shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyokus/pseuds/gyokus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy can't recall whose idea it was for the Camp Half-Blood bake sale. All he knows is that there's flour in his hair and a pair of lips attached to his, and maybe he's happier than he's been in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cupcake king

"A bake sale?" Percy mumbles into his pillow, incredulous. Nico di Angelo, the insufferable son of Hades, woke him up at nine in the morning to ramble on about a bake sale, of all things.

"Yeah. Now join Team Pico-- Nercy?" replies the early rising boy himself, "Whatever, if we sell the most cupcakes, we win. And the winning team and all cabins involved get no chores for a month. And I am sick of doing chores by myself."

"Fine," Percy's reply is more of a groan than a coherent phrase, "but get out of my cabin you creep!"

The son of Poseidon's statement is emphasised with a well-aimed pillow to Nico's face. A bake sale couldn't hurt, right?

***

At four o' clock on the dot, Nico bumbles into Cabin three, armed with a bag full of baking supplies and a shortage of breath.

"It's - a - blood - bath," Nico pants between drawn out attempts to fill his lungs with oxygen. "All the cabins are fighting for supplies! I had to punch some guy from the Demeter cabin to get a whisk. Crazy, man, crazy."

"Did you get an oven?" is all Percy says to that, his tone screaming unimpressed. He hasn't even looked up from the book he's reading. Well, attempting to read. Dyslexia seems to think that Harry Potter is a girl.

"Well-- wait, what?" This time Percy does look up. He lets out a snort at the expression of horror on the poor boy's face. A bag-for-life (blame the satyrs and their ecological obsessions for the lack of plastic bags) hangs loosely off his sharp pointed elbows. Typically, Nico is wearing black jeans, battered converse, a white t-shirt that bares the slogan WARNING: SON OF HADES in inky black print, and an aviator jacket.

"Relax. I'm kidding," Percy rolls his eyes when Nico lets out a sigh of relief, "The Hephaestus cabin kitted everyone out with an oven earlier. Now, your royal fluffiness, would you like kittens with your cupcakes?"

If looks could kill, Percy would be heading straight on down to the Underworld with the glare Nico's sending him.

"Ha ha," Nico says dryly. He then sticks his tongue out for good measure. "You gonna help me make these damn cupcakes, or am I gonna have to summon an army of the dead to drag you out of the mass of fungi and mould you call a bed?"

The seriousness in his tone makes Percy promptly get out of bed with no complaints or witty retorts.

***

"No!" yells Nico, grabbing Percy's sleeve and pulling him away from the bowl of cupcake batter, "Don't crack the egg over the bowl you useless prat!"

He snatches the bowl from Percy with his free hand. Without his grip leaving Percy's orange camp shirt, Nico switches the large bowl with a small one, gesturing to crack the egg in there with a nod of his head and the raising of eyebrows. How Percy translated such a vague gesture is still beyond him, but Nico has a stripe of flour above his eyebrow and Percy really wants to tell him how adorably flustered he looks, but common sense hits him like a truck before he can open his mouth.

Nico must have caught him staring at him with a trance like facial expression that was bordering on drooling, because not a moment later, with his hand still warm on Percy's arm, he gets confused. "What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?"

Then the moment's gone. Nico starts rubbing his face, muttering about the world working against him, like a school girl who got caught in the rain. Percy busies himself by cracking the eggs into the small bowl and beating them, just like he was told to. The son of the sea god wonders when he became such an obedient person.

Absently poking the beaten eggs with a fork, noting the way they cling to the spokes like sailors on a sinking ship grasping their lifelines, he can feel a gaze burning into the back of his head. It's hot, and intruding, and it's Nico's gaze, he suddenly remembers. 

Percy's turning around, a lecture about how rude it is to stare forming on his tongue, when the white powder hits his face like a wave rolling and crashing. And he can't even believe what just happened. No, that's a lie; Nico is the kind of person who would start World War III with baking products. What he can't believe is what happens next.

His flour-caked eyelids open to see a smirking Nico perched on a table, one arm stretched out behind him for support, the other hovering over an open bag of flour. Percy finds himself striding purposefully towards Nico, who's smug expression is fading to fear. He knows he must look manic. His face is white and his features are molded into what must be a terrifying display of anger, or lust, but Percy long since stopped trying to figure himself out.

Nico has shrunk noticeably, his shoulders hunching and his neck shrinking into his torso. Percy's inches away from his face now. Their breath is mingling, and Percy's pretty certain Nico stole some of the chocolate chips, because the taste is teasing his tongue. One of them gulps audibly, but Percy's brain is swimming with the thoughts he's been trying to hold back, so deciphering reality is low on his priority list right now.

Nico's deep brown eyes are scanning Percy's face. They trail from his ocean coloured orbs, down the length of his tanned nose, slowly burning across his cheek bones, flitting briefly across the sharp angles of his jawline. "Wh-what are you--" Nico doesn't even get to finished his question because his words are cut off by something blocking his lips. Flour.

He's spluttering now, half of his face as white as Percy's, looking like he lost a fight with the abominable snowman. As soon as Nico's stopped spitting and choking on flour, he starts giggling like an idiot. The laughter bubbling from the younger boy is infectious, and soon Percy finds himself in a fit of giggles. They look like complete fools, covered in flour and laughing like children who've just heard their first dirty joke, but Percy thinks he might just be okay with that. And then Nico throws another flour bomb at Percy, who responds with an eyebrow quirk and simply says "You're on."

Two giggling demigods and half a packet of flour later and they still haven't baked any cupcakes. Percy and Nico both look like they've taken to rolling around in Santa's Grotto. But they're happy, and it's nice, warm and inviting. After all the skirting around each other and avoiding their own thoughts, it probably isn't a surprise that all this pent up frustration with themselves and each other has led to a flour fight. So when Percy wraps an arm around Nico's scrawny waist and he leans into the touch, the lack of shock is normal. It's not a forceful gesture, it's a plead, silently screaming that this is what Percy wants. A question.

Nico answers it. He cradles Percy's cheek in his palm, letting the warmth seep into his fingertips. His other arm winds around Percy's neck as the son of Poseidon pulls his body closer, almost as if he needs to feel Nico's heartbeat through his chest. Instinctively, they both lean in, and it's mutual. They meet half way.

When Percy's lips capture Nico's, it's chaste and lingering. The kiss tastes like flour and chocolate chips, and it's not rough or messy, nor simple and innocent. It's kissing like they've only just met, but know each other so well. Like they're saying farewell, when they've only just said hello. You'd see this kiss in a movie to make you smile, or another to make you cry. It's light and dark, Percy muses. It's Percy and Nico.

They part. Nico looks at Percy with a hopeful glimmer shining in his eyes, and Percy probably looks the same. Both of them smile, and it's almost a laugh, an exhale of breath that follows the gap between their lips. 

"Hi," Percy grins stupidly, his heartbeat fluttering softly like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Hi," Nico returns, still locked in Percy's embrace.

Something unspoken passes between them, and they're leaning in again, locking lips with more passion than before.

The rest of the day passes with little progression on the cupcakes. He knows Nico's upset about this, because every time they part, he looks at the abandoned bowl of batter longingly, and Percy swears on the River Styx he heard him whimper. But the look vanishes as soon as they're kissing again, sometimes hungrily, other times lazily. Percy can't recall whose idea it was for the Camp Half-Blood bake sale. All he knows is that there's flour in his hair and a pair of lips attached to his, and maybe he's happier than he's been in a long time.


End file.
